Ten Thousand Skies Above You

by Claudia Gray

  I give him a warm smile—which fades in an instant as I look to the left.

  Paul stands there, hands in his pockets, waiting.

  Theo sees him only a moment later. He curses under his breath, and Paul raises an eyebrow.

  “So,” Paul says. “You two made up.” Obviously he’s unsure how much he can say in front of Theo.

  Understanding this, Theo slips his finger under the collar of his shirt to pull up a short length of gold chain. “Actually, I rode with her.”

  “The two of you came here together.” Paul’s tone turns bitter. “How does this fit in with your so-called love for me, Marguerite?”

  “Hey. Shut it, pal.” Theo steps forward. “I’m not with her—not in our dimension, anyway. I’m a friend of hers, and by the way, a friend of yours. I came here to help her out. To rescue you. Well, also myself, but definitely you too.”

  Paul, clearly taken aback by Theo’s total understanding of the situation, snaps, “Stop talking about him as if he’s me. He isn’t. We’re two different people.”

  “Okay, fine, sure,” I say. It’s not worth arguing about at this point. We need to get on the same page. “I’m glad you came.”

  He doesn’t answer at first. Then Paul says, “I haven’t slept.”

  Theo makes a scoffing sound, like Why should we care? He’s too defensive. But I can tell Paul’s telling the absolute truth. Now that I’ve recovered from the first shock of seeing him, I can see the stubble on his face, the dark shadows under his eyes. Quietly I ask, “Why not?”

  “I stayed up all night with this.” Paul pulls the stolen Firebird from his pocket. My first instinct is to lunge for it, but I remain still, except for holding out one hand to keep Theo back. Paul continues, “I ran the data over and over. I’ve learned a lot, but I have a lot further to go. In other words—if you want it back, the answer is still no.”

  “Listen to me.” I step closer to Paul. “Remember what I said last night? This man, Wyatt Conley, intends to sabotage your work in this dimension. If we fail, he’s just going to send someone else. Lots of someone elses. Conley’s not a man who gives up until he gets what he wants.”

  Paul retorts, “So I should surrender to you now and save myself the trouble?”

  Theo’s eyes narrow. Obviously he’d like to rip into Paul. But I told him to let me take the lead on this, and he lives up to his promise, saying nothing.

  “Here’s the bargain I’m offering you,” I tell Paul. “In our dimension, Theo works on the Firebird project too. He helped build this. If you agree, Theo will sit down with you and explain everything about how this works. He’ll go over your own designs, critique them, whatever it takes to get you guys ready to make a Firebird of your own.”

  “You’re a physicist?” Paul says to Theo. The amount of surprise in his voice isn’t insulting—but it comes close.

  “Hey, I might have been tracked into telemetry systems this time around, but in my dimension? I taught you everything you know.” Theo grins. “Well. Almost everything. I have to keep a few things to myself. Maintain my advantage.”

  I cut in. “He can get you there, Paul. If you let Theo show you, you can crack the secrets of the Firebird within the day.”

  He doesn’t even know what to say to an offer that good. “Then I’m supposed to give this back to you. And—and you’d take back the splinter of your Paul’s consciousness. Is that all?”

  I shake my head. “No. For this world’s safety, and so I can get my own Paul back home, we have to make Wyatt Conley believe we’ve sabotaged your work. But maybe that doesn’t mean we have to actually do it. Could you and Theo create a simulation?”

  “A simulation of what?” Paul says.

  I don’t really know. “Whatever it would look like if your computer networks were destroyed. If your data were erased by a virus. If we had something like that—then, when Conley checks, he’ll think you guys are defenseless, when really you’ll be building your first Firebirds even before I get home.”

  Paul looks even less convinced than before. “You can do that?”

  Theo, realizing it’s time for him to step in, nods. “With your cooperation. And also, that Lieutenant Colonel Wyatt Conley who keeps trying to work with you? You have to find a way to keep that guy one hundred percent out of the loop. Our Conley could get inside him, learn what he knows, and find out we faked the whole thing.”

  Even though I can tell Paul has begun to believe us, he still doesn’t agree. “This could be a trick. Maybe you’re going to lead me in the wrong direction, tell me things about the Firebird’s construction that aren’t true.”

  “Do you really not get it?” I could smack him upside the head. “I love my parents. I love my sister. And I love you. Do you think I’d ever leave you guys defenseless in the middle of a war, if I had any other choice? Well, as of this morning, I thought of another choice. So let’s take it together, okay?”

  “We’re not the same,” Paul says again. “Your Paul and me.”

  Shaking my head, I smile. “You are, in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

  “Enough relationship talk,” Theo says. “You taking the deal or what, buddy?”

  Paul hesitates one moment longer before saying, “Come with me.”

  We spend the rest of the day on base; Theo’s military ID and my status with my parents make it easy for Paul to get us access. For the next few hours, Theo and Paul get caught up in mega-dense scientific talk, while I drink awful fake coffee and watch them at work. Even here at the base, things are done low-tech when possible; Theo scribbles math equations on a chalkboard, occasionally brushing his hands free of yellowish dust, and Paul uses an honest-to-God slide rule. Theo’s natural affection for Paul slips out from time to time; I can tell Paul both notices it and has no idea what to do with it.

  So far as he can, Paul pretends I’m not even there. At first I think this is because he hates me for what I did last night. As time goes on, though, I start to wonder. The way he finds himself watching me, then suddenly turns away, awkward and unsure—it’s not unlike the way Paul looked at me back at home, when we’d started to care about each other but didn’t yet know what to do about it.

  This Paul’s feelings for his Marguerite are too strong to be pushed aside. Even when he’s angry. Even when he’s hurt and scared. He still loves her.

  Will she ever fall in love with him, too?

  They keep talking science. They set the Triadverse virus loose on a data backup that should pass for the real thing. They get to where they work together almost as smoothly as Theo does with my Paul back at home.

  Finally, around two in the afternoon, Theo sits up straight and says, “You’ve got the data, now. Another few days of review, and you’ll be ready to build.”

  After a long moment, Paul says, “Thank you.”

  That cost him; I can tell. So I say, “Thank you for giving me another chance. I know I didn’t deserve it.”

  He looks up at me, and for one instant I glimpse the disappointment there—the hope he felt so briefly last night before it was snatched away. Despite what he must be feeling, Paul holds the Firebird out to me. As I take it, he says, “I knew from the data that you were telling me the truth about—about most things. It made me think you might be telling the truth about it all. If there’s a version of me in trouble out there, I’d like to think someone was coming for him.”

  “That sounds more like the Paul Markov I remember.” Theo grins in relief.

  To Paul I say, “We’re going to bring him home. But he’s not only out there. He’s here, too.”

  He looks down at his chest, as if the splinter of my Paul’s soul might be hidden inside his own heart.

  I step closer to him. “No need to tense up like that. It’s not going to screw with your head or anything.”

  “Theo says the retrieval method is the same as a reminder,” Paul says. “Reminders hurt, and now I have to take one. How would that not make me tense?”

  Theo l
eans against the nearest wall and shrugs. “You have to admit, he’s got a point.”

  “Hold on.” I slip my own Firebird around my neck, then press Paul’s against Paul’s chest. Even through his uniform jacket, I can feel the warmth of his body under my palm. When I raise my eyes to his face, he’s looking down at me, and I know we’re both remembering how we stood like this last night, just before we kissed.

  Or maybe what I see in Paul’s gray eyes is that splinter of my Paul. The one I really love.

  I hit the combination Conley taught me in Italy. Paul shudders from the flash of pain, but he makes no sound. The Firebird seems to vibrate in my palm. There it is—the faintest little flicker of heat, the proof that I’ve recovered the second splinter.

  “We’ve got him.” I breathe out heavily, then grin at Theo.

  He grins back. “Two down, two to go.”

  Paul is by far the least enthusiastic of the three of us. “I don’t feel any different.”

  “You don’t?” I would’ve thought my Paul’s soul would affect his more. Yet this Paul is already a scientist, already in love with me. Maybe he and my Paul are too much alike for him to feel the impact. “Well, it worked. I promise.”

  “You promise a lot of things,” Paul says flatly.

  I don’t want to leave this universe when he’s angry with me. Is that childish? Even selfish? Probably. Yet I want to heal the wound I caused—just like I want to heal all the others. “We’re okay?”

  “You unlocked the final secrets of the Firebird. So we’re even.” Paul doesn’t smile as he says it. “Next time, consider asking for what you need, instead of treating me like a fool.”

  That stings, but maybe I deserved it. I keep my voice gentle. “Hang in there, all right? With your Marguerite, I mean. You never know when things might change.”

  “Hey. I’m standing right here,” Theo protests.

  “Sorry, Theo. I just meant— Paul, I told you there was such a thing as destiny. It brings us together, over and over again, dimension after dimension. Destiny won’t let you down.”

  “I wish I could believe that.” Paul stands up and walks to the door. Apparently emotional sharing time is over. “One of the men on security detail can show you two out.”

  “Why out?” Theo takes his Firebird in hand. “Marguerite and I can pop out right here. Then you can explain to our other, slightly lesser versions exactly what the hell is going on, because, trust me, they’re gonna want to know.”

  Paul opens the door. “I don’t want to watch,” he says quietly. “I’ll come for you both immediately. But when you—go back to the way things were—I don’t want to see that happen.”

  He means he doesn’t want to watch the moment when this world’s Theo and I once again look at each other with love.

  I walk out, knowing Theo will follow, and I don’t allow myself to look at Paul’s face again.

  Once Theo and I are alone in the corridor, accompanied by the sound of typewriters clattering within office doors, he says, “Look on the bright side, chica. We’ve got the Firebird. We’ve got a good cover story in place. This is progress.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat to reply. “Conley might find out we didn’t really sabotage them.” Even before I suggested the plan, I knew that was a risk. That risk looms larger now, casting its shadow over my hopes.

  “Yeah, he might. But we could make it seem like this Paul tricked us, something like that. And if this world’s Conley never learns the truth, we might get away with it completely.”

  “He has to learn eventually, doesn’t he?”

  “Eventually could be a long time from now.” As Theo opens the door and we walk outside, he glances over his shoulder, in the direction we came from. “This Paul’s kind of a hard-ass, isn’t he?

  “No. Just hurt.” I think of the way he looked at me last night—hopeful, dazzled, halfway to being in love—and I feel even more like scum than before.

  But Theo’s right about one thing. We have the Firebirds. So far as Conley knows, we completed half the job. One more dimension, one more mission, one more betrayal. Then and only then will we go to the home office and learn the final universe hiding the last splinter of Paul’s soul.

  “At least we have something to use against Conley now.” That was the idea I clung to when this trip began—that I’d find a way to undermine Conley, that instead of simply doing his bidding, I’d turn his own plan against him. “Conley wants to monopolize the ability to travel through dimensions. Now we’ve guaranteed that’s not going to happen.”

  Slowly, Theo smiles. “There’s that fighting spirit. Now, do we know where we’re headed?”

  Quickly I double-check my Firebird around my neck; the second set of coordinates have been unlocked. “Yeah, sending you the data now. Mission one-half accomplished. Let’s go.”

  Theo pauses. “A whole other world.” When I give him a look, he shakes his head. “I know that’s the idea. But it’s like I only just started believing this place was real.”

  “Soon it’s going to seem like a bad dream,” I reassure him.

  “I don’t know,” Theo says as he takes his Firebird in hand. “This place had its benefits.”

  Our eyes meet, and I know he’s remembering the way he kissed me last night.

  But it’s over in an instant, as the Firebird rips us out of these bodies, this world, forever.

  13

  WHEN I SLAM INTO MYSELF, I’M WALKING ALONG A CROWDED sidewalk, and I nearly trip over my own feet.

  A beefy guy in a Yankees jersey bumps into me from behind. “Hey, it’s a sidewalk. For walking. Got it?”

  Another voice nearby mutters, “Tourists.”

  I flatten myself against the nearest building, where I won’t be in anyone’s way. Where have I wound up this time? It’s daylight, and there are—wow, hundreds of people and at least three food carts just on this stretch of sidewalk.

  I look up and start to smile, because even though I’ve never been here before, I know exactly where I am.

  Times Square.

  Visitors to the city clutch shopping bags or record the scene on their smartphones, while locals in business clothes walk twice as fast as anyone else as they weave in and out. Although I can hear car horns nearby, the street right next to me seems to have been closed off a long time ago; the space is instead filled with shaded picnic tables, where people eat and hang out. Above me are tall buildings bearing billboards about the size of my house, and so many glittering lights that they shine even in the middle of the day. Nearby a news ticker scrolls headlines like:

  PRESIDENT AND FIRST LADY TO MAKE STATE VISIT TO BRAZIL

  NISSAN AND TOYOTA ANNOUNCE MERGER

  UK PARLIAMENT VOTES FOR GENERAL ELECTION

  OSCAR WINNER HUGH JACKMAN RELEASED FROM HOSPITAL.

  Those all look familiar enough—except that I don’t think Hugh Jackman has won an Academy Award in my world. Beside the fact that I’m in New York City, this dimension doesn’t appear to be very different from my own. At any rate, it’s better than the desolate world at war we left behind.

  For a moment I remember Paul saying goodbye to me there—the distrust, the betrayal in his eyes. Just thinking about it burns. No, I don’t ever want to see that Warverse again.

  My clothes seem like exactly the kind of thing I’d have at home—though the dark green dress and the low-heeled lace-up oxfords are a little fancier than I’d generally wear for everyday. A cross-body bag hangs at my hip, and I start fishing around inside for clues. Keys, lip gloss, chewing gum: All that tells me is that Clinique and Trident exist here too. Inside a silver leather wallet I find a New York State ID card—no driver’s license—but my address is printed on the ID, so now I know I live on Eighty-Third Street. Also a yellow and blue Metrocard, which I’m guessing is what you use on the subway. Some cash, a case for the sunglasses I realize I’m wearing atop my head, and—yes. My smartphone.

  It wants a code to unlock. At home I use Josie’s birthday, so I p
lug that in and, boom, I’m in. Maybe I should be less predictable, I think, but I can’t stop smiling.

  Before anything else, I go into contacts and scroll down to the Ms. Then the Ps. Paul isn’t listed.

  Do I not even know him in this universe? This is New York City; in our world, that’s where Paul was born. So he should be here, shouldn’t he? If I can’t get to this dimension’s Paul Markov, how am I supposed to rescue the next part of Paul’s soul?

  Maybe you just haven’t met this world’s Paul yet, I remind myself. Or you might already know him, but the two of you aren’t close enough to exchange numbers at this point. Paul had worked with my parents almost a year before I put his number in my phone; I didn’t need to contact him on my own, and even if I had, he was at my house nearly every day. Texting him wasn’t a big priority.

  The tight coil of fear within me slowly relaxes. I shouldn’t panic yet.

  Resigned, I scan through the rest of my contacts. There’s Mom, Dad, Josie—and yes, Theo, here in NYC so no need to use the locator on the Firebird—but that’s when my phone buzzes and a calendar alert comes up: Movie w/R at AMC 42nd. Looks like that’s in fifteen minutes.

  I’m only a couple of blocks from Forty-Second, as it turns out. So I hurry through the packs of people gawking at the signs, the other tourists, and the Hello Kitty store. Obviously I’d rather spend the next couple of hours studying this dimension than sitting in a movie theater, but if I’m going to pass as this world’s Marguerite, I shouldn’t blow off her plans without a good reason.

  When I get to the front of the theater, I’m not sure whether to go in or to wait outside for someone to recognize me—which is when I hear a woman’s voice call out, in an English accent, “Marguerite! There you are!”

  I turn around to see Romola.

  Somehow I manage to conceal my astonishment. It’s definitely her: same dark gold hair, same square jaw and stubborn chin. We’ve run into each other in a couple of worlds now, but never before have we been friends. Here, though, Romola comes up to me with a smile on her face. Instead of the expensive, glamorous clothes she wore in the Londonverse, she’s got on normal jeans and a sweater. As she walks up to me, she smiles and holds up her phone, revealing a bar code. “Since you were running late, I went ahead and bought our tickets.”